


Pete Wentz: Holistic Assassin

by ohnoitsmeagainsorry



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, TW // mentions of rape and abuse but v not detailed at all, holistic assassin au, i do not have an update schedule but i can give a hearty thumbs up, patrick's just kind of unlucky, pete's a holistic assassin, the universe is That Bitch, this is my first multi chapter fic ok a bitch is trying her best, yes it's inspired by dirk gently
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoitsmeagainsorry/pseuds/ohnoitsmeagainsorry
Summary: Pete has long since come to terms with the fact that his life isn't his own, and that every move is dictated by The Universe.Patrick is isolated, and happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes, The Universe likes to have a bit of fun.





	1. first impressions are the most important

The bodies lying around Pete almost made a picture. If he tilted his head slightly, and squinted his eyes, they became a flower. He grinned to himself. Beautiful. 

He dropped his knife and gun onto the asphalt ground, and frowned. Although the universe had never let him kill a wrong person before, this amount of bodies did seem a bit excessive - even to him. However, he knew better than to question it, and simply wiped some blood on his dark trousers, before sitting down amongst his new friends, and sighing. 

These dead bodies were the closest thing to human contact he’d had in too long, and that reality was soul-crushing. But there wasn’t much else he could do, so for the time being he simply sat and waited for something else to happen. 

— 

For Patrick, life had never been great. He didn’t mean he was abused or anything, just that his life had never seemed to have something great in it. Something extraordinary that would take him out of his permanent daze of grey, and thrust him back a world full of extravagant colours and just a sense of purpose that had never existed before. 

Sometimes Patrick thought he was broken. Other times, the state of grey was too overwhelming, and he didn’t even have the energy to think about why he wasn’t like his family, their friends. 

Patrick didn’t really have friends, and if he was being honest, he didn’t really have a family anymore. They were there, and they called on his birthday sending wishes and sometimes a card with a $20 bill in it, but that was all. To Patrick, this was normality. He’d see the families and young couples on the street when he went to buy food and other mundane things, but it’d barely register. 

Something about him just wasn’t there anymore. He had no idea what it was, and it had been too long since anyone had cared to try to help him. 

That was a sad reality, but one Patrick had come to accept. It did mean he could leave his house at 5am to go to the 7/11 down the street to get a bar of Hersheys without anyone asking him why the fuck he was up so early, though. 

—

The streets were deserted, and the air was cool. It was calming, and a refreshing change from his cramped apartment. Something about this just felt…right. Patrick couldn’t explain it, and he felt no need to. Had there been someone next to him, he’d probably have tried, but there wasn’t, so he didn’t. That’s how most of Patrick’s life worked at this point. 

By the time he reached the convenience store, his feeling of something being ‘right’ had changed to one of slight unease. Even at this time there would be a few people milling around, but it was completely empty. Void of any human life. (Except from Patrick, who was finding it hard to consider himself a human at this point. Humans had to speak to other humans, didn’t they?) 

But being a stubborn idiot, he carried on. It wasn’t until he reached the parking lot he realised what was wrong. 

There were a couple dozen bodies lying around, haunting dark shadows against a dirty concrete ground. Patrick gasped, and stumbled slightly as he took in the seriousness of this situation. What the fuck had happened here!? Cautiously, he moved on, unsure what to do. His lack of being prepared in…any…situation certainly failed him here, and he was stepping in-between bodies like some fucked-up obstacle course until he reached a clearing. In the middle of that clearing, was a gun. And a knife. And next to the gun-and-knife, was someone who was most certainly alive. Alive, and staring at Patrick with a curious expression. 

“Hello?” He asked. Yes, the person could be the killer…of over 20 people…or he could be someone who survived the attack and was confused and scared. Patrick figured it would be the latter, but the universe liked to laugh in his face, and so the man stood up, grabbed his knife, and started sprinting directly towards Patrick. 

—

Patrick yelped. Loudly. The knife wielding man frowned at that, and ran harder. He chased Patrick around the entirety of the parking lot, before slowing down and resting his hands on his knees, the knife now on the ground. 

“Can’t you just let me fuckin’ kill ya?” He asked, sounded tired and pissed off. Patrick’s eyes widened. What kind of person was this!?

“No?? Why the fuck would I let you do that!?” He almost shouted, hearing his voice crack. The murderer looked up at him with almost brown eyes so dark they could be black. 

“‘Cause. I’m meant to kill you.” Patrick found himself frozen with a healthy mixture of disbelief and fear. He gestured around to the bodies. 

“Did you do this!?” The murderer nodded, and raised an eyebrow.

“Who else would? Ya think anyone else could do this much damage in like an hour? Fuck no! Just me, baby, and my shit.” He nodded to the discarded weapons, and then seemed to remember the weapons, and what he was trying to do, and picked up the gun. He aimed it at a still-frozen Patrick, and pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. 

He tapped the gun harshly against his hand, and cursed, before aiming it at the ground and shooting. A bullet barely missed the murderer’s foot, and lodged itself into the ground. “Huh,” he said. “I guess I’m not supposed to kill you, then.” He dropped the gun once more, and Patrick flinched at the sound. He still wasn’t sure what was happening - for all he knew this was some shitty dream, and he’d wake up in his apartment in a couple minutes ready for another pointless day. The the murderer walked over to him, covered from head-to-toe in blood, and held out his hand to him. 

“I’m Pete, nice to meet ya.” He said, with a somehow charming smile. The world around Patrick suddenly turned dizzy, and he fell to the ground in an extremely undignified slump, unconscious. 

—

Pete surveyed the person lying in front of him. From afar, it would be difficult to distinguish him from the other bodies lying around, due to the darkness of the early morning, but if you really concentrated, his shallow breathing was visible. He cocked his head, frowning at this mystery person. 

Who was this guy? He’d just shown up out of nowhere - although that’s how most things in his life worked - and then his gun hadn’t worked on him. It had worked on the ground, but not him. It had simply refused to sink into that unimportant man who he’d only met (without knowing his name) several minutes before. 

Pete sat down beside him, and wondered how much longer he had before someone alerted someone, who told the cops, and he had to move. If the cops saw this blue hoodie-clad man being the only one alive, they’d either suspect him as being the murderer, or question the living shit out of him. Either way, this guy was innocent, and…Pete supposed if he wasn’t physically able to kill him that he wasn’t actually unimportant. 

He must have a purpose, then. Pete just figured he’d have to wait around to see what it was.


	2. road trip!

When Patrick finally came to, there was a splitting pain in his head that refused to go away. Luckily for him, he hadn’t suffered from any sort of memory loss, and instantly remembered where he was. 

He sat up, now in an elevated state of panic, and was met by the murderer guy’s face only inches away from his. 

“You’re awake. Welcome back!” He said cheerfully. Patrick blinked. 

“You didn’t try to kill me again?” He questioned, realising too late that might’ve not been the best decision on his behalf. The murderer - Pete, he remembered, shrugged. 

“If it doesn’t work the first time, it’s not meant to happen. And no matter how much I feel like killing you, only a fuckin’ idiot would go against the will of the Universe, y’know?” Patrick nodded slowly, trying to convince himself this was fine. This was normal. He was just having a conversation with a serial killer, surrounded by too many dead bodies. On top of this, the sun had risen more, and was shining its light on the corpses. 

Patrick was going to throw up. 

“Oh, shit, you ok, man?” The killer - Pete - sounded worried. Patrick waved him away, and squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, the nausea went away, and he composed himself as best he could. 

“Why…why are you asking? Shouldn’t you be cleaning up these goddamn bodies or something!?” yeah, ok, maybe he was slightly hysterical. Pete looked at him weirdly. 

“You kidding me? What’s the point in that? When the cops come they’ll get them all outta here.” 

“Oh, you mean before or after they arrest you?” Pete rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t get arrested. And I’m going to go in a minute, you wanna come?” Patrick squinted at him. 

“You….you what?” Pete frowned. 

“I’m not repeating myself. Do you have a car, by the way? It could really help us get around quicker.” Patrick blinked, took a step back. 

“A car? Us!?” The terror in his voice was becoming more evident, and Pete nodded slowly. He seemed unsure of how to react, not used to this kind of emotion. 

“Yeah? I mean we could walk but then we might have to deal with police…I can’t really be bothered y’know? Car would just be easier.” Patrick shook his head.

“No…I don’t have a car. Never learnt how to drive.” Pete cocked his head, and something deep down in Patrick saw how attractive Pete was. It then wanted to throw up, as it had admitted to thinking a serial killer was hot. 

“Really? Dude, even I can drive,” 

“Ok! Good for you! I get it, I’m 20 and I can’t do anything! Great, thanks for rubbing it in, you goddamn psycho!” Pete took a step back, and Patrick managed to stand up. 

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that. Ok, uh, I’ll just use one of these.” Patrick watched Pete examine all the cars, weapons now tucked into various pockets of his all-black ensemble. His gaze then wandered to the gas station itself. More specifically, the several security cameras stationed around the site. 

“Fuck!” He cried, which made Pete brandish his gun toward the sound. Patrick yelped again, and ducked out of the line of fire. 

“What! Who’s there?” Patrick then realised that the gun wasn’t, in fact, pointed at him, rather what Pete had assumed was danger to Patrick. A part of him felt sort of touched by that thought. 

“No! There’s no one! I just…I saw the security cameras.” Pete looked at him weirdly. 

“So? They don’t incriminate you at all, just me. And they probably won’t work. Universe won’t want its best assassin to be put in jail,” he smiled grimly, and shrugged, before turning back around. 

Right. 

Patrick found himself walking towards Pete. “What does that mean?” He asked. Pete was peering inside a shitty green car. “Oh, god don’t take that one.” Pete quirked an eyebrow at him, but still moved onto the last one: a sturdy black car. Instantly his face lit up. 

“This one.” He muttered, before remembering Patrick. “Oh! Sorry, uh, basically the universe tells me who to kill and I do so. All these folks here? Meant to kill ‘em. You? Not meant to kill.” He shrugged. “I used to hate it, but realised that I’m only meant to kill the bad people. Gotta balance out the good n’ bad somehow and apparently I’m the way to do it. I’m not a bad person, I promise.” He then proceeded to begin breaking into the car. 

“Bullshit, utter bullshit,” Patrick said. Pete shrugged. 

“Why would I lie? Also you saw that gun - it didn’t let me shoot you. I mean, I can try again if you want but -,” 

“No! No, that’s ok!” Pete laughed, before finally getting into the car. It was an automatic, and as the engine started he smiled to himself. There wasn’t anything sinister in his smile, which made Patrick question whether he really was telling the truth? And then realise that such thing as a ‘holistic assassin’ was utter batshit crazy. 

“You comin’?” He asked, leaning out the door to look at Patrick. Patrick didn’t move. Going on a fun road trip with a delusional serial killer was probably the worst idea he’d ever heard. But, to be fair, he probably wasn’t going to kill him. I mean, it would’ve happened by now, right? And it’s not like his family would miss him. God only knew if they thought he was alive still. He shrugged. 

“Yeah, fine. I guess if the Universe wants me around.” Pete grinned, and it was slightly childlike. 

“Okay, nice! Uh, you never told me your name?” Patrick blinked. 

“Patrick.” 

“Patrick…ok, cool. You ready, Trick?” He nodded, and then got into the car, before shutting the door. 

Just as Pete put his foot on the pedal, there was a distant sound of sirens. Probably a good time to leave, then. Patrick didn’t see Pete’s frown. Didn’t hear Pete ask a silent question to the Universe about why it’d sent the cops after them. Neither of them heard any sort of response, except for a single acorn falling on the road in front of the two new ‘road trip’ buddies. But thankfully both of them were far away from the 7/11 before any police could show up.


	3. this isn't the forest fic i swear

They were in the middle of a forest. Patrick regretted not learning how to drive in that moment, because of all the places to drive, Pete had chose a goddamn forest. 

They’d been in the car for about three hours, and for the most part it had just been silent. Patrick had been drifting in and out of sleep, and Pete had, without noticing, killed two more people. 

One was when he ran a stop light and the person behind him got so angry she’d burnt herself with a cigarette, then leading to ramming headfirst into a tree - an instant death. (Later it’d be revealed that she had been abusing her two children). The second was when Pete had waved at them, and the person had ran into an oncoming car due to being so distracted. (That person had murdered a good two people themselves, although no one but the Universe would ever find that out.)

But Patrick remained blissfully unaware of the deaths, and to be fair so did Pete (although somewhere within him he could always tell when it had happened). A couple of times, Pete had stopped the car for a break. He hadn’t told Patrick, but due to the nature of what/who he was, he’d never been given the chance to actually take his driving test, and therefore needed breaks, usually after almost crashing the car again. 

Eventually, Patrick woke up fully, stretching and yawning. 

“Mornin’,” Pete said. He’d just stopped again, having almost hit a deer. 

“Why have we stopped? Also, why the hell are we in a forest?” Pete shrugged. 

“Dunno. I don’t choose where we go.” Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“Right, yeah. Holistic assassin.” Pete didn’t say anything. In his 27 years of living he’d never had this much conversation with someone, and while he knew what sarcasm was, he wasn’t really sure what to say to it. “I still don’t get how that works,” Pete frowned. 

“Me neither.” Patrick scoffed, then saw the look of seriousness on Pete’s face.

“Wait, really? So why do you go along with it? Haven’t you ever tried to, I dunno, get a job or something? Make friends?” Pete shook his head. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable with all the questions. This was why he preferred being alone - the Universe have better have had a good goddamn reason for bringing this kid into his life, and disturbing the peace he usually found with his own thoughts. 

“I can’t. I mean, I’m not a bad person, but disaster just kinda follows me everywhere. I just have to go along with it.” Patrick looked at him for a weird amount of time, before opening the glove box and rummaging through it. After about a minute he gave a triumphant cry, 

“Hell yeah! Twizzlers!” Pete blinked, as he watched Patrick practically tore open the packet before shoving about three in his mouth, and then moaning obscenely. Pete felt his face heat up at the noises Patrick was making, and couldn’t help his mind wandering to what other noises he would make and oh god ok —

“Jesus, Trick, at Twizzlers?” Patrick shrugged defensively. 

“What? They’re good!” 

“Clearly.” Patrick’s face turned as red as the blood still covering Pete. 

“Shut up,” he muttered, not looking at Pete, instead deciding to focus on his new snack. 

After demolishing the packet, Patrick moaned again, but this time in disappointment. He’d never gotten his Hershey bar from that morning, and now it was well past noon. 

“Hey, can we get some food or something?” He asked, shoving the empty wrapper back into the glovebox. Pete shrugged. 

“I mean, sure, if you want. God, if you act like that from some stale sweets you’re gonna collapse at a burger.” He went to start the car up again.

“Wait, uh, I don’t have any money.” Pete shrugged. 

“S’fine. Although that reminds me - why the fuck were you at a gas station by yourself at like 5am?” Pete questioned, beginning to drive again, in the opposite direction to where they’d been going. Patrick shrugged, looking at Pete carefully. Was he really going to tell this (serial killer) stranger his whole life story? 

Might as well. 

“Why not?” Pete raised an eyebrow, glancing at Patrick. 

“Most people are asleep at that time - and don’t say something about me not being asleep because I think it’s safe to say I’m not ‘most people’,” 

“Uh, yeah, you’re a serial killer.” Pete opened his mouth to argue, but Patrick waved his hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, the Universe’s personal assassin, whatever. And I don’t sleep well. I haven’t slept in about four days and sometimes early walks are what I need to clear my head.” 

“Still weird. You’re not telling me something.” His voice wasn’t accusing, just matter-of-fact. Patrick sighed.

“Yeah, sure whatever. I haven’t seen my family or old friends since I graduated high school and today was the first time I’d left the house in about three months - which, to be honest, I’m starting to regret. I think that I’m…I’m missing something. A purpose. I don’t know.” Pete nodded slowly. 

“Y’know, you’re the first person I haven’t killed in a long time. You’re the most human contact I think I’ve ever had.” He looked Patrick up and down. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you,”. 

“Why?” 

“You’re too pretty.” Patrick blinked once. Twice. He stopped breathing. Pretty. Pretty. 

“I’m. You - just, but it’s…w-,” he stopped. Pete laughed, and oh god Patrick really was attracted to this serial killer covered in blood who had just told him he was pretty. In that moment, Patrick wanted to be hit by a bus. And then another bus. And then a train after those buses. Nobody had ever called him pretty. He’d gone through his life mostly being a sort-of background character for everyone else. The definition of a wallflower. And now this man had murdered his way into Patrick’s life, and had just decided to call him pretty!? He was speechless, to say the least. 

Partly because he’d been called pretty. Partly because it was by a serial (and he could not stress this enough) killer. And finally, the biggest reason: he had liked it. Oh, god, what did that say about him!? Eventually he managed to get his mouth working again. 

“Uh, no one’s ever called me that before,” wow, Patrick, that was a really great thing to say. Pete just shrugged. 

“Their loss.” He turned to Patrick, completely serious, “I wouldn’t lie, Trick,” Patrick nodded, slightly in a daze. 

“Right, yeah, of course,” his mind was whirling. Why was he attracted to this? Did he have some blood kink!? Oh shit Pete was covered in blood. “Hey, Pete?” 

“Mhm?”

“You…you can’t go out covered in blood.” Pete looked down at himself, then barked out a laugh. 

“Shit, yeah, you’re right. Guess it’s a drive-thru, then.” He seemed to completely unfazed by anything, Patrick was slightly envious of him. They lapsed back into silence, Patrick unable to think about anything except how Pete definitely had just flirted with him, what that meant about his life (as in: what had gone wrong to be attracted to serial killers), and Pete thinking about whether he wanted a coke or a diet coke. 

The Universe watched their two favourite people drive along. Her long-term plan was most definitely not clear to either of them, but it needed to happen, and they were impatiently awaiting the next stage. 

Of course humans would have to be so goddamn complicated with feelings.


	4. in this house we stan big macs and patrick stump

It was just past noon. 

They had stopped at a drive-thru, and thankfully whoever’s car Pete was driving had left behind a stacked wallet. Now, Pete was watching Patrick demolishing a Big Mac in the McDonalds car park (not sponsored), and wondering how no one had ever been attracted to this man before. 

Patrick’s only thoughts were on the burger. 

“Dude, I’ve never seen someone eat a burger that quickly before. That’s fuckin’ insane,” Pete said, after Patrick had finished. He just shrugged. 

“I mean, dunno if you can tell but I really like food. And I hadn’t eaten since yesterday around lunch.” Pete frowned. Pretty much all of what he’d just said raised red flags. Patrick saw his expression. “Oh, uh, no - not like that. I don’t like, force myself not to eat. I just don’t do much all day so don’t really feel the need to.” Pete still wasn’t sure about the first part, because if Patrick was saying something about his weight then Pete might cry. 

Patrick was the most beautiful person he’d ever met, and Pete had met (and then subsequently killed) a lot of people in his lifetime. 

“Anyway, you ready?” 

“Why did you come with me?” That question was not one Pete had consciously asked. He didn’t know where it came from. Well, he did, as he’d been asking himself that question since Patrick willingly got into the car with him, but he didn’t actually want to ask it. Patrick balked. 

“Uh…well I - it was because of…uh. See, the thing is…I just -,” he tried, until Pete gave him the mercy of interrupting him. 

“Ok, ok, please stop. That’s painful to hear.” Patrick smiled sheepishly. 

“Sorry,”

“Don’t apologise! There’s nothing to apologise for, dude, I was just wondering. I mean, it’s been a long time since I spared anyone I ‘wanted’ to kill,” the last person was a baby, for reference, “so I’m just finding the whole thing a bit weird.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I wanted a bit of chocolate and now I’m on a road trip with a delusional serial killer.” Pete scoffed. 

“Come on, man, you gotta stop calling me that. It hurts. I don’t want to do this. I just want a normal life. I mean, I’m 27, and I’ve never fallen in love. I’ve never had a job. I’ve never worried about something like…I dunno, traffic. I probably never will. Shit, I’ve never owned a dog! I fucking love dogs! But instead the Universe said ‘this idiot here - he will be my own personal assassin’, and here I am. I don’t choose anything about my life. Every choice I make is dictated by Them, and what they want doing in their world.” Pete’s eyes were stinging. Maybe he should’ve killed Patrick. “My life never has, and never will be my own. I’m just a pawn, and it doesn’t matter if I bitch about them or this whole thing or whatever, because I’m not worth enough to punish. God, do you know how many fucking times I’ve tried to use this gun on myself only for it to suddenly stop working? I lost count.” Pete leaned back in the driver’s seat. 

“Oh,” was all Patrick said. Pete turned to look at him. 

“Oh?” Patrick nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Pete. I’m so sorry. This is something I’ve never heard of before - something that is completely alien to me. I guess I saw the proof when you literally tried to shoot me like 5 hours ago,” Pete laughed, “but it’s just…something out of a comic from the 80s.” Patrick sighed. “I hate myself for believing you, though. I also hate that I got in this car. I probably should be dead.” 

“Yeah that wasn’t really a smart thing to do.” Patrick shrugged.

“Too late now, I’m here to stay. You ok to drive?” Pete sat up again, and started the car. 

“Course. I’m thinking we stop by a Walmart or something and get some more food?” 

“Or we could find a hotel or something? This is a nice car - I think - but you need a shower, and I’m sure as shit not sleeping in here.” Pete looked down at himself. 

“Oh, I’m covered in blood.” 

“How is that something you can just forget -,” 

“Can you find a good one in the navigator thingy? I don’t want to sleep in some shithole.” Pete watched Patrick type in ‘good hotel’ into it, and a 4-star one only an hour away came up. 

“Huh, that worked.” 

“That’s the magic of being with me, baby, you’ll always find the best places.” Patrick muttered something under his breath - about murdering or something, and then switched on the radio. 

They sat in silence for a while, until the radio hosts stopped droning on, and finally a song came on. Pete didn’t recognise it, but he didn’t miss the way Patrick almost gave himself whiplash by turning so fast to look at it. He could hear Patrick humming along, slowly getting louder and louder, until when the chorus hit he began properly singing. 

Pete almost crashed the car, as the sweetest voice he’d ever heard filled the car. The song itself wasn’t great, but Patrick’s voice made up for every shitty lyric that assaulted his ears. Pete briefly wondered if he’d died. He didn’t dare make any sort of noise, instead concentrating greatly on the road ahead. 

When the song ended, Patrick gave a little contented sigh (and Pete’s heart melted), before relaxing again. They stopped at a red light. 

“Patrick.” 

“Yeah?” Patrick sounded so nonchalant, as if he had no idea what he’d just done to Pete. 

“You can sing.” Patrick started blushing. “Uh, well technically everyone can sing?” 

“Not like that they can’t,” somehow, Patrick turned redder, and he sort of stuttered out,

“Stop, I can’t sing that well. I just like the song, it’s nothing special.” In that moment, Pete made it his life’s mission to do two (2) things, and then he could die happy. 

Make Patrick understand and see just how special and amazing he was. Pete had known him for less than a day, and it had felt like years. Already he’d shown just how little he thought of himself, and someone like that thinking nothing of themselves broke Pete’s heart.  
Somehow make Patrick blush again because holy shit that was cute.

One of those would probably be easier than the other, but as the light turned green, Pete silently thanked the Universe for bringing Patrick into his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sort of filler, but mostly just their relationship developing. yes i know it's been less than a day, but they're not noRmaL people so we making an exception - i'm also trying to update whenever i can but if im being honest i only really have an ending planned so i have no idea what im doing
> 
> thanks !


	5. pete is actually a really bad driver

They made it to the hotel, mostly in silence. Pete was slightly (really quite) disappointed that he hadn’t heard Patrick sing anymore, but he really didn’t want to press it. It was a miracle in itself that Patrick had agreed to come along with him, let alone anything else. 

He still didn’t really understand why Patrick had gone with him. It honestly didn’t make any sense, no matter how he looked at it. (Unless Patrick was secretly hoping Pete was going to kill him.) But from their earlier conversations, it seemed that Patrick didn’t exactly understand why either. Which left one thing.

The Universe had given him a nudge towards Pete. 

Which then meant that they had a plan - which included Patrick. The last plan they’d had for Pete (and when he said plan, he meant actually having a start and end rather than just killing bad people) ended with him being tortured for a good month or two before all the captors mysteriously died and every door was unlocked. 

If any part of this plan ended with Patrick even stubbing his toe, Pete wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but it sure as shit wouldn’t end well for anyone. Then again, why did he care so much about Patrick? He knew literally nothing about the guy, except he was too trusting, extremely cute (somehow cuter when blushing), and deserved the world handed to him.

“Pete, dude.” Pete jolted out of his thoughts to Patrick’s warm hand on his shoulder. Patrick actually looked concerned for him. “You alright?” Pete nodded. 

“Just thinking. Ok, let’s go.” Patrick looked at him weirdly. “What?” 

“You do know that you are still covered in blood, right? I’ve said this like three times -,” 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Trust me, Trick.” Patrick looked extremely dubious, but still got out the car. Pete didn’t bother to lock it, but took the wallet and sunglasses left behind. Patrick rolled his eyes, but Pete didn’t miss the smile that snuck onto his face. It made Pete feel…lighter. 

But that was a problem for another time. 

Pete led the way, and funnily enough the lobby was completely deserted. There were a couple of abandoned bags by the reception, and - oh look at that - a key for room 802. 

“Are you sure we should be doing this? What if they’re checking into that room -,” Pete waved him off. In his life he’d squatted hundreds of different houses, and although he’d been freezing the whole time they’d kept him vaguely alive. This was nothing compared to the risk of that. 

The elevator was on their floor, and Pete, ever the gentleman, gestured for Patrick to go in front of him. Patrick glared, but did so anyway.

For a floor so high up, the room wasn’t as big as some of the ones Pete had had in the past. As he unlocked the door, he saw that it was clean, but that there was a dad hat on the desk. Pete threw it at Patrick, who yelped.

“Hell was that for!?” He cried. Pete grinned.

“They were checking out - they left something behind. We’re good!” 

“Alright, Sherlock, calm down. I trusted you. I mean, so far you’re getting away with like 20 murders, stealing a car, and some serious manipulation of the dude at the McDonalds.” Pete didn’t have the heart to correct him, as he was wrong on all of those. The murders that would be classified as Pete’s were probably somewhere in the late hundreds, and knowing that fucking butterfly effect were racking up as they spoke. Also, he’d stolen like 4 cars. 

He was right about the cashier though. 

“Anyway, we have another problem.” Pete looked back at the rest of the room from inspecting the bathroom, and saw Patrick gesturing helplessly at the bed. Oh. Singular. “Any chance we could get another room? I mean, this one literally has a bed and a desk. No chair or anything.” Pete shook his head. 

“If the Universe wants us to have this room, then we don’t get a choice. Sorry, man.” Patrick ran his hand through his hair. Pete’s heart mentally did a backflip, because doing an actual backflip was kind of overused and cringey. “Yeah, I’m, uh, gonna have a shower.” 

Hotel showers were pretty much Pete’s only source of hygiene, and as he waited for the water to heat up he thought about that morning. Technically he himself had only gone to see if there was a car he could nick - walking was tiring, but as he’d approached he’d felt a familiar feeling. 

It wasn’t necessarily want, or need. It was an odd mix of instinct and urge. In his past, he’d tried to fight it, but had never succeeded. He was long past that point, and tried to never think about it. Ever. 

Pete stood in the shower, and watched the long dried blood wash down the drain. 

He didn’t like killing. He wasn’t against it, which was probably morally bad, but since he realised he only killed bad people, he became sort of…accepting of it. He mostly just left his body on autopilot when it came to it, tuned out the screams and pleas. He could only reason by saying that they were bad. Pete wasn’t sure what all 20 of that last lot had done to all be killed (it would later come to light that they were all in a cult which mostly prioritised killing small children and feeding them to goats for ‘holy milk’), but they were bad. 

The thing was, that this morning, it had been different. Like he was on track for something, something bigger. Whether that was just meeting Patrick, or something even bigger, he couldn’t be sure. He quickly washed the rest of the blood off himself, before returning out in a hotel robe. Patrick was sitting on the bed, flicking through the shitty hotel channels. It was just past four. 

“I’m gonna go out, get some new clothes.” He told Patrick, who just nodded idly, concentrating on who was going to win the rose or something. “Should I lock you in?” Patrick turned to Pete, and properly looked him up and down. Something flickered past his eyes. 

“Wow, you look really good,” he said, before realising that yes, he’d said that out loud, and turning painfully red. Pete grinned. 

“Thanks! Amazing what actually having a shower can do to you,” Patrick cocked his head, past embarrassment forgotten.

“Wait, you’re not actually going to go out like that, are you?” Pete shrugged.

“Fuck else am I gonna wear? Gotta get something.” Patrick narrowed his eyes. 

“You’ll look insane.”

“I’ll look worse if I walk around wearing bloodstained clothes.” 

“Fair enough.” Patrick conceded, and lay back on the bed. “Don’t lock me out, just knock and say it’s you when you get back. Chances are I won’t move.” Pete turned to leave, “Oh Pete?” He turned back. 

“Be safe.” Pete rolled his eyes, but felt lighter once again. He couldn’t place the feeling - it really wasn’t one he’d come across before, and felt too awkward to ask Trick about it in case it turned out to be something…private. So he left it. 

—

When Pete got back, it was 10. Well, just past 10. Patrick had ordered room service, and Pete could hear the water running from the bathroom as he showered. There was a half-eaten pizza on the bed, and Pete began to help himself. It was still hot, meaning Patrick had left it for him. He smiled, and watched the news. 

“24 killed this morning in what appears to be the work of only one man -,” 

He frowned, and turned up the volume. The anchor confirmed that they had no leads on the story, but that one of the dead’s car was missing - a black Audi. Pete cursed quietly. There were a lot of Audis around, but even so. It was getting riskier than usual. The Universe wouldn’t let him get captured, right? It certainly wouldn’t let Patrick get captured…would it? 

But to break him out of the imminent spiral, Patrick came out of the bathroom. He smiled when he saw Pete. 

“Hey! Nice clothes.” He looked at the TV. “Oh shit that’s you.” Pete half-nodded, half-shrugged. “Will they find you - us?” Pete shook his head.

“Not unless the Universe is done with me forever.” Patrick sat down next to him. 

“Right. It’ll be done with you when you cleanse all evil off the world, I’m guessing?” Pete scoffed.

“Jesus, no. Just kind of balance it out.” 

“Makes sense.” He looked at Pete. “Wonder what I have to do with any of this.” Pete met his eyes. It was the first time he’d properly looked at them, and funnily enough, they were indescribable. Pete never wanted to look away. 

“Maybe you’re just here to keep me company.” Patrick gave a wry smile. “Yeah, ok. Universe doesn’t care about me that much. It’s a nice thought though.” He yawned, and it suddenly both became very apparent to them that their sleeping situation needed to be sorted out. 

“Uh…” Patrick stuttered, ears turning red. 

“I can just sleep on the floor, it’s fine -,” Pete began, but Patrick cut him off.

“No! God, no. That’s not a place to sleep for anyone, Pete,” Pete didn’t tell him that he’d slept on worse for many years of his life, and probably would do in the future. They were both silent for a few seconds, before Pete just said,

“Well then we’ll share.” Patrick’s neck joined his ears in turning redder. “Dude, what else do you suggest?” Patrick stumbled on words for a few seconds before giving up and sighing in defeat. Pete got off the bed and took off his new (stolen) jeans, shoes, socks, as well as the jacket. Patrick looked at him weirdly. 

“Man, I’m not sleeping in jeans if I’m not absolutely freezing.” Patrick didn’t say anything, but took off his own hoodie and shoes. He wasn’t wearing any socks, and tracksuit bottoms were the complete opposite of jeans. They got into the bed together, as far apart as they possibly could be. A part of Pete ached just to be even a tiny bit closer to Patrick. Patrick fidgeted around for a bit, before ending up on his side, looking at Pete, who was mirroring him. 

“Hi,” Patrick said, a shy smile on his face. Pete’s heart melted. 

“Hi,” he replied. They lay in silence for a few seconds, before Patrick lay on his stomach, and Pete turned over. For two people who had literally been sitting in a car for like 90% of the day, they both fell asleep astoundingly quickly.

—

Pete only woke up once that night, and only briefly. It took him a second to understand where he was, and when he did he noticed that he and Patrick were tightly wrapped around each other, with Patrick’s face in Pete’s neck, and his hair slightly tickling Pete’s nose. Patrick was out cold, somehow looking even more innocent and cute when he slept, and Pete smiled softly to himself, before pressing a light kiss to Patrick’s head and falling straight back asleep. 

It was one of the better night’s sleep he’d had.


	6. oh, god, there’s an actual plot

When Patrick woke up, it was well past noon. He went to stand up, maybe go piss, but found he couldn’t due to the person lightly snoring beside him. 

Pete. He was cuddling Patrick. Patrick carefully turned to face Pete. He was so peaceful when he slept. It could kind of make Patrick forget about the whole killing thing, because despite how many times Pete had said that he didn’t kill for fun, and that technically it wasn’t his choice, it was still murdering. 

Despite how attractive Pete was, Patrick wasn’t sure he could get past it. Although he was seriously getting ahead of himself, thinking about Pete like that. as if Pete would ever like someone like him - murderer or not Pete was genuinely funny and kind, and the first person he’d met who had seemed to see him, and then keep seeing him rather than moving past him. 

Ok, maybe Patrick could get past the murdered thing (which was pretty disturbing in itself). And Pete covered in blood was weirdly hot. 

Patrick tried to steer his thoughts away from something that could lead to a boner while less than 10cm away from Pete. 

So instead, he thought about the future - something known to make anyone’s arousal die. 

How long was he going to stay with Pete for? Pete had only said he should come along with him - but did that just mean a short ride to the city together, or something more long-term? 

Overstaying his welcome was Patrick’s worst nightmare, but so was asking questions about when he wasn’t wanted anymore. 

He suddenly realised pete’s snoring had stopped, and watched as Pete’s eyes opened. He blinked a couple times before focusing on Patrick. Pete smiled widely. 

“Mornin’,” he yawned, removing his arms from around Patrick and stretching up towards the ceiling. He seemed completely unfazed that he’d been cuddling Patrick like a teddy. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Patrick asked cautiously. If Pete just responded normally, then hopefully he’d be alright for some time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he’d rather die than go back to just barely living in his old house. Pete went silent for a moment, eyes closed again. 

“Not much, really. I mean, I don’t ever have company with me so I dunno. Whaddya wanna do?” he looked back at Patrick, who shrugged. 

“Get some food, go from there?” he paused. “Oh and uh, try not to kill people while i’m around? It kind of ruins the mood.” Pete barked out a laugh, before getting out of bed. 

“Alright, just for you Trick.” he put his clothes on. “I could really go for some waffles, you happy with that?” Patrick nodded. He wasn’t usually able to eat that much in the morning, but his stomach felt uncomfortably empty, so waffles sounded good. 

They made their way to a convenient waffle house just across the street, and got a table near the window. The tired-looking waitress took their orders and came back with coffee for them both. 

It was pretty empty in the restaurant, probably because waffles weren’t as popular at lunch. Patrick then noticed someone with a hood covering their face sitting in a corner. They didn’t have any food or drink, and were clearly making themselves as small as possible. Patrick nudged Pete with his food. 

“Mm?” Pete said through his cup. Patrick nodded to the person, and Pete frowned. “Oh. I mean, I guess homeless people have got to go somewhere for warmth? Or shelter?” it was currently summer, and the skies were extremely clear. “Maybe they’re just trying to get free food or something. Waiting for a date, I dunno.” Pete went back to his drink. 

Patrick wasn’t convinced. He watched the waitress go over to the person, and saw them - her - lift the hood to reveal a face of basically skin and bones, and littered with cuts and bruises. She looked tired, and scared. They had a short conversation, before she got up to leave. Clearly she’d been kicked out for not ordering anything. As she passed their table, Patrick called to her. 

“We can get you something to eat, if you want?” she looked startled, and he saw the waitress roll her eyes. Pete stared at him. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse. Patrick nodded, and gestured to the seat next to him. She sat down, all while Pete didn’t stop staring at him. He gave Pete an apologetic look, before turning back to the girl. 

“I’m Patrick, thats Pete, what’s your name?” he asked her. She blinked. 

“Andrea.” she muttered. Patrick looked at her carefully. Her accent wasn’t american, and sounded more irish. Despite the clear starvation and abuse shown on her face which aged her, she was clearly a child, and smaller than Patrick. 

God, this was a child. Couldn’t be more than 14, and she’d clearly gone through some godawful ordeal for some amount of time. Patrick looked over at Pete, who was also watching the girl. 

“Um,” Patrick began. God, he really wasn’t good at approaching difficult topics. “What are you doing here, alone, with no money?” she froze, her hands now clenched into fists. Pete and Patrick exchanged a look. This wasn’t normal. Maybe she just ran away from home? It was possible. Patrick really hoped it was just that. 

Finally Andrea took a deep breath. 

“I don’t know why i’m about to tell you this, but i mean...god this is a really bad idea, isn’t it?” Patrick shook his head at her, as the waitress came over and set their plates down. 

“Whaddya want to eat?” Pete asked. She shrugged. 

“I’m ok.” Pete rolled his eyes. 

“Can we get one more of these?” he asked the waitress, pointing at his plate full of waffles and maple syrup.” she nodded, and walked away. Pete slid his plate over to andrea. “You eat. You need it more than I do.” she took it from him, slightly hesitantly, and then began to eat it slowly. 

“Don’t eat too much,” Patrick said. she looked at him, scared. He shook his head hurriedly. “Wait, fuck, no not like that. Just if you haven’t eaten in a while you’ll feel sick if you eat too much,” she nodded, still a bit unsure, but put the fork down. 

“So I...yeah I don’t really...” she stopped, and cleared her throat. Too much talking would be hard for her. they sat in silence, until Pete nudged Patrick with his foot. That was apparently their way of talking now. 

“Eat, Trick,” he said, and Patrick nodded, before taking a few small bites. Every now and again Andrea would manage another mouthful, and Patrick was glad she took his advice. Andrea looked between the two of them quickly, before starting again. 

“I’m not from America, in case you couldn’t tell. I’m Irish,” Pete looked surprised. Patrick guessed he wasn’t that used to other accents, as he probably killed people before they could tell him where they were from. “I haven’t seen my family in a little over a year, because I was stupid enough to go outside at night by myself. I got like halfway down the street before I saw like a fiver on the ground or something and when I went to get it they took me.” she stopped, and Patrick offered her his water that they’d been given. He wasn’t really sure what to say. 

“I’ve been...raped...and assaulted more times than I can remember. They beat us up for fun, and i’ve seen other kids my age been killed for crying. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of the world.” she huffed a humourless laugh. “Been to Singapore. Then here. I only escaped because the driver had the shits,” she stopped, and drank half the glass, before looking at them both. 

“Fuck me...” Pete muttered. His eyes were wide in shock and Patrick knew he mirrored Pete’s expression. There wasn’t really anything either of them could say to this girl, who had already been through so much. 

“How old are you?” Patrick asked. She shrugged. 

“13. I think I turn 14 soon. It’s July right?” they nodded. “Yeah. This month, then.” 

“It’s the 18th,” Pete supplied, checking his watch. Patrick didn’t remember seeing that watch before. She blinked. 

“I’m 14.” she whispered. The silence that fell over the table was painful. “I missed my birthday.” Patrick put his hand gently on her arm. 

“You’ll be able to go home, ok? It’s just a case of whether you want to go to the police here or in ireland because we can just get you a plane ticket home and -,” she suddenly leaned over and hugged him tightly, before pulling away. 

“Ireland. I just want to go home.” she said,  
before turning back to her food. 

—

It took two months to get Andrea back home. During that time Pete only killed ten people, which patrick wasn’t that happy about, but he figured it would’ve been a massive decrease compared to other months. And it meant that Pete was trying, which really made him feel happy. 

They’d had to get in touch with her family first, which had resulted in several hours of crying from both sides of the phone. During that time neither Patric nor Pete had let the girl out of their sight for fear she’d be recaptured. Andrea’s mum - Natalie - had sent over her passport and said she’d pay for the first flight home. Patrick had spoken to her, usually while Pete sat on various hotel sofas and ate instant noodles. They’d both agreed that Pete wasn’t the one to deal with a weeping mother. 

They’d bought her a ticket for a direct flight, despite Andrea and her parents complaining, and Patrick had confirmed with her parents that they’d be at the airport at the precise time and precise date. While this had been happening, Pete had taken it upon himself to show Andrea around the city. Patrick knew that no harm would come to her while she was around Pete. He could also tell that Andrea had figured something was a bit different with Pete. He also knew she wouldn’t be able to ever guess. 

Andrea had never really spoken to them, and only once or twice had cracked a joke herself or properly engaged with them. Patrick wasn’t offended, though. It would take a lot longer than two months to undo all the trauma she’d been through. And just seeing her regain weight was enough for him. 

At that moment, Andrea and Pete were out again, and Patrick was packing a small bag for her of all the things she and Pete had ‘found’ while out. Pete had gotten her one of the new iphones, and had put Patrick’s number in there as well as her mum’s (but only because Pete didn’t have a phone) The door opened about ten minutes after Patrick finished, and the two came back in. Andrea was holding a stuffed stitch toy, smiling widely. 

“Your flight leaves in about four hours, but the airports like an hour away so we should probably leave now.” Patrick said handing her the bag, and the phone. “My number’s there. Please call me as soon as you get signal,” she nodded happily, and took the bag. After two months of living with her, they’d never see this girl again, and Patrick knew just how much he’d miss her. 

When they waved her off through security, Patrick took Pete’s hand in his own - telling himself it was just for comfort, and ignoring how Pete’s warm hand fit oh-so-perfectly in his own. Ever since the first night they’d been sleeping in the same bed, and had almost always woken up cuddling. It was nice, to say the least, an extremely welcome change to what had been loneliness since forever. And it had also answered the question of whether Pete wanted Patrick around or not. 

As they watched Andrea make her way out of sight past security, Patrick knew that he would be in this for the long haul. 

Whatever that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO FINALLY UPDATED !!!!!!
> 
> this chapter is mostly to advance the plot because unfortunately it’s not just several thousand words of peterick snuggling :p
> 
> hopefully i’ll be able to get another one up soon, bht i don’t know if that writers block will come back again :/


	7. no patricks were physically harmed in the making of this chapter

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just stayed in the last one.” Pete said, staring at the room in front of them. Since Andrea had made it back to her family, Patrick and Pete had been keeping to a strict ‘no one place for more than two nights’ schedule. 

It meant, however, that the only place they hadn’t been to was a dingy motel on the outskirts of the city. 

And when Patrick said dingy, he meant Dingy. 

It looked like it was a shitty horror movie prop, dilapidated and with trees looming everywhere. Not to mention it was pretty much empty, with only two other cars parked out front. 

The old woman who’d greeted them had a smile like a Disney villain, and hands like a harpy. Patrick was pretty sure he’d never not see her again in his nightmares.

The room itself was...the only way Patrick could describe it was as being ‘Shining-esque’. Of course, Pete had no idea what that meant, so it was all lost on him. 

“Because the cops are already investigating your little stint at the gas station -,” 

“That was ages ago!” Pete interrupted. “Can’t they just move on and we can go to a nice place and just lie in bed all day?” Patrick’s idea of what that meant was most likely very different to Pete’s. 

“Pete, you killed like 20 people.” he sighed. Pete shrugged. 

“So!? All that means is that legally I’m a mass murderer! They’re all bad people anyway, I don’t see why it matters,” he huffed. Patrick blinked. 

“There’s a lot to unpack with that, but I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you that none of what you said was even remotely true,” Pete just shrugged, and sat on the bed. Patrick looked at him. How had he basically moved in (although they didn’t have a permanent home anywhere) with this guy? How the fuck had he begun to like him!?

“What time is it? Can we eat yet?” Pete asked again, after a few minutes of silence.

“It’s 11am Pete, have a nap or something.” he groaned. 

“God, I’m so bored.” Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“What did you do before I got here?” Pete shrugged. 

“Kill people. Eat. Try and find somewhere to sleep on the days I hadn’t killed anyone. Universe really doesn’t like those days.” had it been possible to beat up the concept of the entire universe, Patrick would’ve done so. 

But he couldn’t, so he instead settled for a simple, “Fuck the Universe,” to which Pete murmured a sleepy agreement, before going completely silent. 

Patrick looked over at his…friend? God, what was Pete? They’d been together non-stop for several months now, and Patrick realised that probably made Pete his best friend. 

His best friend was a mass murderer. And as fucked up as that was, it didn’t even begin to cover the other feelings. But Pete looked so peaceful sleeping, and from an outsider’s perspective he was insanely attractive. Exactly Patrick’s type (again, ignoring the murderer part). 

He could’ve stayed there for a while longer, just content to be in silence knowing he and Pete were safe for the day, but not only did he look like a fucking weirdo, but he didn’t want to wake him up. So instead, he silently walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

The motel was small, but as they’d come in he’d seen a lobby with, if you squinted, coffee, and some snacks. Patrick figured Pete would be hungry when he woke, and a hungry Pete was worse than a little toddler. 

—

Inside, it wasn’t actually empty - which was weird. A place like this should’ve had maybe one other person who was also on the run, but there were about 15 people milling around. When Patrick opened the door, they all looked up, and Patrick had the sense he was a field mouse about to be eaten by several vultures. 

It wasn’t a good feeling. At all. 

He gave them all an awkward smile, before walking to the vending machine. It was almost empty, except for something that looked almost like coke and two nameless possibly chocolate bars. Patrick decided against any go those, but when he turned around to leave again, he found the vultures had begun to swoop in to him. They were most definitely standing closer - he hadn’t made that up, he was sure. But just in case it was his imagination, he began to walk away. 

“Where are you going, Patrick?” oh, god damnit. Of course he’d ended up as some new cult sacrifice. And of course Pete was asleep. Shit. Maybe the Universe wanted him out of Pete’s life - but did it really have to kill him!?

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to pretend to be calm. They all smiled the same smile the woman at the front desk had at the same time. 

“Don’t you know?” one asked. Patrick rolled his eyes. Yeah, he was fucking terrified right now, and like 90% sure he was going to die, but really!? 

“No! How the fuck would I know what’s going on!? I’ve never seen you people in my life before, and I literally just came to get a coffee and some snacks. So would you please tell me what’s happening and not be all cryptic about it?” there were a few murmurs amongst the crowd (had it grown? Patrick swore there were about 25 people now). 

“Well, Patrick Stump,” the tallest one said, after a moment’s silence. - a woman with closely cropped hair and yellow eyes. Not yellow-in-the-sunlight, but proper cat’s eyes. Patrick took a step back, until his back was pressed against the vending machine. Shit. Nowhere to run. She seemed to realise that at the same time as him, and stepped closer still. 

Patrick knew that she was toying with him. That they all were. But he couldn’t do anything, too frozen in fear to even try to run or scream for Pete. (Also Pete was a really heavy sleeper, so Patrick really doubted it’d work). 

The group began closing in on him. 

“What do you want?” He managed. At this, their smiles turned into frowns. 

“Why did you interfere with us, Patrick?” They asked, voices merging together as a harmony of nails on a chalkboard. Patrick blinked. 

“What’re you talking about? Is this about Pete?” He asked. Laughter. 

“You took one of our toys,”

“She was ours,” 

“And now we have to find another to take her place…it’s only fair it should be yo -,” 

At that moment, there was a feral scream from somewhere near the entrance, and the unmistakable noise of a match being lit. Patrick watched as all the heads turned to the source of the noise, and although he himself couldn’t see, he knew it was something unexpected for them, as they at once began panicking. 

In all the confusion and quickly spreading fire, Patrick barely noticed a hand take his own and begin dragging him outside. He was in a trance of sorts, his vision blurry and the confusion of everything taking a toll on him. 

So, he bent over and threw up. Patrick heard a sigh, before another hand was gently rubbing his back. 

“Come on, Trick, we don’t have time.” He was told. His vision came back into focus, and he saw Pete’s worried eyes staring at him. Patrick looked back, and only then heard the ear-splitting screams and saw the building burst into beautiful flames. 

It kind of reminded him of Pete, in a way. 

“Fuck, Patrick! Come on!” Pete tugged his hand, and then the two of them were running again. Patrick wasn’t sure where, but he seriously hoped it was someplace those monsters could never find him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT GUESS WHO FINALLY UPDATEEDDDDDDD !!!!!!!!!
> 
> once again, I don't know who proofreading is and we will probably never meet, but it's the thought that counts. 
> 
> to the two (2) ppl reading this i am So So sorry about my lack of updates but im bitch and so's school etc etc 
> 
> comments and kudos mean the world to me <3


	8. the gang goes on an impromptu hike

They’d been walking for about two hours now. Patrick had barely come to his senses, still feeling dopey and slightly unaware of what was happening. 

Pete was still holding his hand. 

As they walked along the side of the road, Pete was ranting about what had happened back there, sounding as if he was about to cry.

“- fucker, Trick, you could’ve died! These were the same people who took Andrea in the first place right-?” Patrick nodded slowly. “Right! That’s what they implied; if they’ve done that to a ton of people without getting caught, then fuck would they do to you? And did they drug you!? What the fuck happened to you? Are you possessed? Do you know who I am!?” Patrick (reluctantly) let go of Pete’s hand, and sat down in front of a bush. “- I just think - Patrick, Patrick?” 

He looked up at Pete, who was conveniently shielding the sun from Patrick’s eyes, and smiled stupidly. Even angry Pete was insanely hot. 

“Didn’t get drugged or anything, just…” he searched for the right word. “…scared. Thought I was gonna die,” Pete crouched down to him, and Patrick winced at his sudden lack of sun protection. 

“Ok. Fine. Are you okay though? Because one minute I’m asleep, and then the next I’m in the lobby with a lit match in my hand, and you’re being crowded by these, these -,” Pete stopped. “What the fuck were they!?” Patrick shrugged. 

“The people that took Andrea.” He responded. Pete rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah no shit, you already told me that. I meant like, were they human or what?” Patrick just shrugged again. 

“Fuck if I know. But they called her their toy, said I would have to replace her.” In hindsight, telling someone like Pete something like that probably wasn’t a good idea. Pete took both of Patrick’s hands tightly in his own, and looked at him. 

“I am going to fucking murder them.” Was all he said, before letting go and standing up again. They both stayed that way for a couple of minutes, silent and looking at the empty road. Eventually, Pete sat down beside Patrick. Patrick held out his hand, and obviously Pete took it. 

“I can’t lose you.” He muttered, staring intently at the ground. Patrick squeezed his hand as a response. He wasn’t sure what to say, but seeing Pete in that state forced him back into his mind.

“Shit. Jesus, Pete, I - I’m…” yeah, Patrick was, to say the least, dumbfounded. Sure, Pete had never really been stable since Patrick had known him, but seeing him like this was a whole new level - one that Patrick really didn’t like. Hated. He’d never really felt that strongly about someone feeling sad, though. Obviously with his family he had, but never with someone else. 

The implications of that were really not something to think about on the side of a lonely road while your serial-killer-slash-best-friend opened his heart to you. 

Or maybe they were. It made sense in a weird way. 

Patrick stood up, and tried to drag Pete up. He failed, as he had no muscle whatsoever, but it’s the thought that counts. Pete smiled at him. Gentle and warm. Not like the one he’d seen when they’d first met and Pete was trying to kill him. 

“You remember how we met?” He asked, beginning to walk again. (He was still holding Pete’s hand, and hoping Pete wouldn’t notice). Pete rolled his eyes. 

“It was less than a year ago, dude, I don’t have the memory of an old person.” He replied. Patrick ignored that. 

“8 months ago, pretty much. But you literally tried to kill me without even asking who I was -,” 

“I’m a holistic assassin, I don’t choose who I kill,” Pete mumbled. 

“- and now look at us!” Patrick finished, ignoring Pete, who cocked his head. 

“Holding hands?” Patrick felt his face heat up hotter than he'd ever thought possible. Pete just laughed.

“I - I just meant, that -,” he tried. Once again, Pete simply laughed, although not cruelly, and gripped his hand tighter. Patrick was too flustered (really, Patrick?) to say anything, and they ended up walking in silence. 

It was nice. Patrick looked over at Pete, and could see the relaxation on his face. That was probably the best thing he’d seen. Pete always seemed stressed, and the difference was almost tangible. 

It made Patrick feel calmer, even when walking dangerously close to the road. If possible, he felt he could just spend the rest of his life with Pete, hand in hand, in complete serenity. 

That was, of course, until they heard the cops. 

Almost instantly, Patrick’s eyes widened and he cut off the blood supply to Pete’s hand as he clutched it like a life support. There was more than one, and most definitely coming towards the two of them. 

“Oh, yeah, the hotel.” Pete said, unfazed. 

“Pete.” Patrick said, completely calm. Pete turned to him.

“Mhm?” 

“You do realise that if we’re seen mere miles away from a burning motel with no survivors that we will look so incredibly guilty. Not just for arson, but murder of those…those…” he gestured wildly with his free hand. 

“Monsters,” Pete supplied helpfully. 

“Yeah. So what the fuck do we do!? There’s no fuckin’ way we’ll be able to get far away enough in time, and, shit, they’ll probably search the area and send out alerts looking for people and oh my god man you smell of fire and you’re literally holding a lighter - why the fuck are you still holding the lighter - fuck shit we’re fucked we’re so fucked I can’t go to jail I —,” 

Now, usually, people cut others off with a yell. Perhaps their name. Maybe even a hand over their mouth if it’s a particularly difficult one. 

Pete didn’t do things usually, and so instead his brain supplied only one option, and he leant forward and kissed Patrick. 

On the mouth. 

(With his mouth). 

And to be fair to him, it worked. Patrick immediately shut up, eyes wide and thoughts running a mile a minute. 

Pete leant back. 

“We’ll find cover. Follow.” And he lead a practically limp Patrick off to the assorted foliage surrounding them. 

—

They’d been crouching for maybe an hour. The police cars had long since gone, but Patrick refused to move. He also refused to talk, but that was mostly because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. 

You see, Pete had kissed him. And he hadn’t even been able to register what it was like, which really sucked considering it was probably going to be the only time it would happen. 

Although when he thought about it, it really was a ‘Pete’ thing to do: completely fucking ridiculous. 

“Patrick. Patrick? Trick?” He looked at Pete, who smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that, you were, uh, really freaking out, man.” 

“So you kissed me.” Patrick replied flatly. Pete looked sort-of ashamed. 

“I wasn’t sure what else to do…never really dealt with that before. If someone’s on a loony rant then I, kinda, kill them anyway.” Patrick sighed. They weren’t holding hands anymore, as when they’d first sat down he’d been too limp to keep his grip on Pete. Patrick put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. 

“It’s ok. Just a shock.” Pete smiled at him, and then looked sheepish (again). 

“Was it good? I, god this is gross…and kind of cliche, but I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Patrick raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean it worked, if that’s what you mean. I shut up.” Patrick knew he was avoiding the question, but he was still traumatised from the hotel, and told himself that was a good enough excuse. Pete looked a bit sad for a second, before recovering. 

“Yeah. Sure. Uh, can we get going now? My legs are kinda numb.” Patrick nodded at him, and Pete helped him up (despite being the one with numb legs, Pete was still stronger than him. Something about killing people and always being on the run?) They kept walking, still no other life in sight. 

Patrick took the time to look around at the scenery surrounding them. It was one of those endless roads, with fields, and then past those fields mountains. Patrick thought it was beautiful. Serene. The kind of place he could see Pete ruining with blood. 

Ouch. 

That was harsh. Like, really harsh. He looked over at Pete, who was repeatedly flicking the lighter, despite it only working about a tenth of the time. He sighed. 

“Don’t waste it.” 

“What?” Pete asked, looking at him. He looked like a puppy. Innocent - ok, Patrick, don’t forget he’s literally a serial killer, holistic or not. Although, his victims have always been bad people. Kind of like Donnie Darko, but hotter. Hotter than young Jake Gyllenhaal? Damn. Maybe Patrick was in lo -

“The lighter. It’s useful.” Pete stuck his tongue out at Patrick, and put it back in his pocket. 

“Fine. Where are we, by the way?” He asked, hands now in his jacket pockets. Patrick shrugged. 

“I haven’t known for days. I guess we’ll just keep going until we find civilisation.” Pete groaned in response. 

“Fuck me, that could take day - oh shit a car!” He stuck his thumb out at the approaching car, and it slowed down, before Patrick could protest. The driver, a middle-aged man with longish hair, rolled down the window. 

“Where you going’?” He asked. Pete gave him an award-winning smile. 

“Nearest city?” The guy sighed.

“That’s far away, but sure. You’d never make it by yourselves. Get in.” They obliged, and the sudden gust of heat from inside the car hit Patrick like a wall. He hadn’t realised how cold he’d been. 

As they drove off, Pete and the driver made conversation - Pete lying his ass off about every aspect of who they were, why they were there, their relationship - while Patrick looked out the window. He felt sleepy, probably from the relief of being sort-of safe, but as he dozed off, he could’ve sworn he saw the hotel receptionist staring at them from the side of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i've been gone for 5 months i am so fucking sorry. 
> 
> lots of stuff been goin on in my life including school - it do be gcse year doe owo so we stressed 
> 
> uhh follow me on twitter @A24MULANEY ta x
> 
> as always aleix this is for u lol
> 
> -NOT BETA'D-


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